


Reorientation

by Benzaiten (DaughterOfTheWest)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Afemgers, Comics, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderswap, Harry Potter - Freeform, Lolita, Lord of the Rings, Music, Poetry, Rule 63, Slaughterhouse 5, Toni Morrison, Toni is a Riot!Grrrl, twilight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfTheWest/pseuds/Benzaiten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seventy years of culture has passed her by, Stella Rogers (Captain America) is assigned to explore the time that she missed through literature, art, music, television, and movies.</p><p>Who better to help her out with some cultural reorientation than the rest of the team? Cue book recommendations, mix tapes, museum field trips and movie nights abound.</p><p>Though honestly, listening to Torra sing through an hour of battle odes isn't quite what she had in mind.</p><p>-Part of the Rule 63! Afemgers Universe-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: An Assignment from Fury

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suzelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/gifts), [Mizbingley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizbingley/gifts).



> Thanks (as always) go to my parters is crime, MizBingley and Suzelle, without whom this would be possible but it would suck a whole lot more.
> 
> EDIT: Note on LOTR/timeline continuity-- apparently "The Hobbit" was published in 1937 and LOTR was written in the 40s even if it was PUBLISHED in the 50s, so it's very possible that Stella could have heard of the series even if it didn't officially come out until after she was frozen. Thanks to Aiko Namika for pointing this out! :) 
> 
> EDIT: 
> 
> Notes on Nameswapping, so you don't get confused:
> 
> Iron Man = Antonia "Toni" Stark  
> Cap= Stella Rogers  
> Hulk= Brooke Banner  
> Thor=Torra Odinsdottir  
> Hawkeye= Claire Barton  
> Black Widow[er]=Nikita Romanov  
> Fury=Nikki Fury  
> Coulson= Phyllis Coulson  
> Hill=Marcus Hill  
> Darcy=Daryl Lewis  
> Jane Foster is... Jane foster.
> 
> Why is Jane still Jane, and not John or James or something? I decided (upon suggestion from my lovely Beta) that it would be awesome to have an adorable science-god Lesbian couple in Torra/Jane. :) Otherwise the rest of the world is Genderswapped.

# Prologue: An Assignment 

_A lot has changed since 1945. In the interest of keeping in touch with the modern world I have been assigned (by Fury) to research and explore the things I have missed since my sleep. The SHIELD therapist required_

“Required” wasn’t the right word. Stella looked around for correction fluid or an eraser before realizing that she was typing on a computer and not a typewriter, and that there was such a thing as the “delete” button. After making sure that said button didn’t take away the whole document (she’d deleted entire files accidentally on many occasions and was now cautious before she pushed anything), she corrected and continued.

_The SHIELD therapist suggested that I log my thoughts and feelings on my research through journaling about them. In the interest of getting with these “computer” things that people are always using, I decided to journal on one of these. Let’s hope I don’t mess anything up too badly._

Stella sat back in her chair, steepled hands supporting her chin as she thought of what to say next. She was more of a drawing person, hadn’t done well in grammar studies when she was in school and always was more interested in reading than writing, anyway. Bettie used to keep a journal when they were kids, though, and Stella always wondered what she wrote in there— she wondered if Bettie was looking down at her right now, thinking about the same old leather journal and the way she used to try and sneak over Bettie’s shoulder to glimpse the secret entries. It never worked. Bettie always seemed to know where she was before she got there.

_I’ve divided the things that I missed into a few categories, with the help of Brooke and Toni. Literature, music, art, movies, and I was going to include radio but they tell me that radio has been on the decline since the invention of the “TV” in the 1950s. I’ll write a little bit about radio at some point, though, I can’t imagine it’s gotten too terrible. The rest of the team has offered to help me out in their own ways, so I’ll trust their judgment in deciding what I should try to experience, in addition to my own research of course._

Cap pushed her lensless glasses (she wore a real pair pre-serum and it didn’t feel right to read without them) up her nose, frowning at the screen and letting her forehead crease in concentration. She had to end this on the right note. There was no use being lazy when you’re doing anything— that goes for writing, for art, and for saving the world—even when you’re probably the only one who’s going to be reading this anyway.

_Though the world has changed since the 1940s, there are some things about the world that are and always will be. God, for one. Maybe, through all this research, I’ll figure out what the rest of those things are.  
Sincerely,  
S.R._


	2. Chapter 1: Literature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella analyzes the modern world through literary greats: Nabokov, Vonnegut, Morrison, Twilight... WAIT WHAT.
> 
> Also Torra(Thor) reads Harry Potter and is adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on LOTR/timeline continuity-- apparently "The Hobbit" was published in 1937 and LOTR was written in the 40s even if it was PUBLISHED in the 50s, so it's very possible that Stella could have heard of the series even if it didn't officially come out until after she was frozen. Thanks to Aiko Namika for pointing this out! :) 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: My lovely-fabulous beta MizBingley wrote a Toni/"Peter" Potts companion oneshot to this chapter, so check it out! It's kind of fantastic.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/488503

# Chapter 1: Literature

### "We went to the New York World's Fair, saw what the past had been like, according to the Ford Motor Car Company and Walt Disney, saw what the future would be like, according to General Motors. And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep." \- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

_Chapter 1: Literature_

Typing out her header felt good, felt solid. The clack of the keyboard and the blink of the cursor made her resolute. “Here I begin” that text-beneath-text read, “From here I will make my claims.” She was Columbus or Amerigo Vespucci with her sailing the waters of the future-present world and marking them as she pleased. The white word document was her blank canvas! Her paints were a universe of possibility! With her literary flag-in-the-ground out of the way, Stella collected her mind and-- 

Stared at a blank page for five minutes.

Anti-climatic, perhaps. But when you’re a person from the “past” thrust into the “future”, how do you begin tackling even a single subsection of all culture has to offer? 

Well, she thought, might as well do the obvious thing and begin at the beginning.

_My research begins with books, because I love books (what else is a sickly kid to do while limited to her bed, with all her friends playing outside?) but also because books are something that haven’t changed so much since 1945_

Stella paused, knowing that was a lie. It wouldn’t do to lie, especially to herself. 

_\-- or so I presumed._

The author eyed the stack of books sitting on her desk, playing idly with the spines of her subjects as she pieced together what she wanted to say. First and foremost, she thought resolutely, she had to explain how she came across all these curious titles.

_My methods for selecting material were haphazard, but I felt strongly that I must get as many different opinions as possible-- it’s no use relying on one source for everything if you’re trying to span an entire seventy years worth of literature. Hopefully I got a good enough variety. The first place I decided to go to the New York Public Library (always one of the nicest places in the city in my book). The outside looks similar but the computers and the stacks have changed in the years since I’d been there last, and maybe I just caught it at a bad hour but it looked to me like there were less people there, too. I asked a librarian what the most popular novel to borrow was recently, and she handed me a big black book with some hands holding an apple on the front, so I took her at her word and added the book to my list as an example of a recent novel. I asked her about texts she’d recommend that were more generally written after 1945 (‘Oh, postwar literature?’ she said. I still can’t get over the term post-war. It feels too recent to be ‘post’ anything) and she handed me another book called “Beloved”. I thanked her and checked that out as well. I arrived back at the tower and began reading as soon as I got to the living room. With a mug of coffee in one hand and my books in the other, I sat down on the couch and got to work._

Stella had been happily reading for an hour before Toni walked in and did a spit take. 

“You’re reading _that_?” She asked, incredulous and giggling, “Seriously. That. Twilight. Oh my mormon no-sex-before-marriage vampire-fucking god.”

Stella was confused, to say the least, “I’m trying to understand literature of the modern era and the librarian gave this to me. What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just--”

“Just WHAT?”

“That book you’ve got there? That one that is so representative of modern literature and pop culture and everything you want to know about the present?”

“Not my words, but go on...”

“That’s largely considered by all sane people to be the worst book of this century.”

 

_I’m sad to say that my first foray into modern literature was perhaps the worst novel I’ve read in my life._

_The book began inconspicuously enough: a young girl moves to a little town and goes to school. Mundane, but inoffensive. I was willing to give it a chance to pick up. She meets a boy who she likes-- again, boring but not damning. Said boy turns out to be a vampire in a vampire family who lives in a mansion and sparkles in the sunlight? That’s at least a big red flag._

_When I tried to put it down, though, make some more coffee and toast and collect my thoughts, I found myself returning to the story again and again. I cognitively knew it was terrible, but something about it was addicting and fascinating and completely entertaining. So even if it is the worst book I’ve ever read... I can’t say that I hated it._

Barton had the same reaction that Toni did. Nikita just raised a supremely-expressive eyebrow the way he always did whenever he said something without saying anything. Torra was more vocal.

“Lady Rogers, I have seen the moving picture of that book and I believe that it was most entertaining!” She beamed, that face of hers that steamrolled through any internal doubts and replaced them with utmost certainty. Jane patted Torra’s arm, “Daryl dragged us to see it because he has a thing for Robert Pattinson. It was fun... if a little poorly acted.”

“Well, I can’t say that the dialogue would give any actors much to work with...” Stella sighed, rubbing her eyes behind her empty lenses.

“Do not be discouraged, Captain of America,” Torra slapped her on the back, a force to make even Stella winded, “Read the text. If it is fun then it is fun, if it is not then it is not. If it is poorly-written but still fun, then enjoy it for what it is.”

_Torra has a point, though. Just because something is cerebrally terrible doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy it for whatever entertainment value it has. As long as you take everything with a grain of salt, then that’s all that matters.  
So I’m going back to the library to rent the rest of the series._

A day later, while Stella was sitting on the couch, finishing the fourth book of the series, a loud ‘ _thump_ ’ made her look up from the vampire battle. Toni was standing over her, and had tossed a small stack of books on the couch by her side.

“Read these,” She stated, “They’re a whole lot better than what you’re reading right now.”

The titles in question read “Lolita”, “Lord of the Rings Anthology”, and seven different books which appeared to be part of a series called “Harry Potter”.

_I figured that the best way to go about getting through all of these books was to just go in the order I got them in, so next on the agenda was “Beloved” by Toni Morrison._

_I’ll preface this by saying that I got a full historical debriefing from SHIELD after I woke up, and it wasn’t until then that I found out about the civil rights movement, or Martin Luther King Jr., or any of that. I also missed the 1970’s womens’ rights movement, too. The time that I missed feel all the more acute, but part of me also wonders how much I missed while I was still awake._

_Reading this made me think about some things that I hadn’t thought of before. Did all of the people that the War left behind (all of the Jews who were freed from Nazi camps, all of the dissidents and gay people who were interned anyway) have the kind of soul-deep scars that Sethe and Paul D have? What about their children and their children’s children, living in the space that I missed? In the time that I didn’t?_

_Sight is a learned skill-- we learn what to look for and how to see it with socialization and growing up, but with that we also learn blindness to things that would challenge our perception of self and of the world as we think it is. For me, this means that I was ignorant of injustices happening all around me even before I went to sleep. I found out about the Japanese Internment during my historical reorientation. How could we not only allow this to happen but cause it as well? We were being the bullies that I joined the military in order to fight. How could America, “land of the free” of all places, condone that?_

Stella let out her breath, not realizing that she’d been holding it. That book had left her with knots inside.

_Being known as “Captain America” makes me even more sensitive to this, I think. I am supposed to stand for this country. I do. Did I only stand for the majority America, though? Was I just a figurehead for an America that wasn’t including all American citizens? Maybe it’s less the real, immediate country that I should stand for and more of what we can be-- what our morals dictate that we should be. Because certainly it’s not what we are right now._

_I guess I have my own ghosts in the house to deal with._

The entire thing gave her a headache. Even while she was alive and active there were things going on at the homefront that would have made her sick. She didn’t know... She didn’t _know_... She kept telling herself that only to realize that it was no excuse. She _should have_ known. It was her duty to look harder than that. America had moved on already. Her revival from the ice might be her second chance to make things right (now that she was aware that something was wrong)-- and Captain America wasn’t about to squander that chance.

_If I might set these thoughts aside for discussion later, I’ll continue on a lighter note._

_With the new assortment of books Toni gave me, I had my next steps. I decided that “Lolita”, being the shortest, should come next. As soon as I found out what it was written about, however, I decided that I could not (in all good conscience) read it. Pedophelia is not something that I want to be privy to even in fictional form. Toni, in her constant wisdom, called me a literary wimp and took the book back when I returned it to her._

_So I started on “Harry Potter”. Within three weeks I had already read through all seven books, and was bawling like a child when Dumbledore_

This wasn’t one of Stella’s prouder moments, and she didn’t really want to go into that. She decided to use more discretion and ‘ _clackclackclack_ ’ed the delete button.

_Within a month I had already read through all seven books, and it would be fair to say that they are some of my favorite things I have seen come out of the last seventy years so far. I would never have guessed that childrens’ books about wizards and magic would be so much fun! Part of the fun, though, came more from reading them with a friend._

Just as Stella was beginning to read “The Sorcerer’s Stone”, Jane and Torra returned from a trip to Coney island (“It was a feast of color and lights for the eyes, and the cola-mead was delicious!”) and sat down in the living room.

“You’re still working on modern literature?” Jane asked, sifting through the stack of books on the coffee table.

“Yeah, Toni just gave me a bunch more to read but since I’m refusing to read her pedophelia book--”

The scientist looked confused, but with a moment of recognition the expression changed to amused and slightly horrified, “Toni gave you ‘Lolita’?”

“How did you know?”

Jane chuckled, “Well, that’s kind of the only literary pedophelia book there is. Outside of some _seriously_ wrong stuff that I would be very disappointed if Toni was actually into--”

“No, no,” Stella winced at the thought, “I don’t think that’s her thing. I hope it’s not, at least.”

“What is this ‘pedophelia’ you speak of? This ‘Lolita’?” Torra frowned in thought, “Is a ‘Lolita’ a laughing-out-loud of the small variety?” 

Jane giggled, “I’ll explain it to you... ah,” ‘When you’re older’ wasn’t exactly an excuse you could use with a centuries-old Norse goddess, “some other time, okay?” The blonde looked confused, but shrugged it off much to Jane’s relief.

“So now what are you reading?” She asked, peering over my shoulder.

“I’m starting a series called ‘Harry Potter’...” 

“I have heard much about the boy wizard who lived!” Torra grinned, “Jane has told me of him and I would like to read it with you. Would you read it to me?”

Stella looked a little surprised, “Uh, well, sure?”

_I ended up being Torra’s storyteller rather unexpectedly, but I now believe that Harry Potter is a series which is better enjoyed in the company of others. We read through the first book with her, huddled under a blanket on the couch, and me, with my mug of coffee in one hand and the book in the other. I will even admit to doing a few voices for characters here and there (particularly Snape and Quirrel and Hagrid) to which she would giggle and smile and it was so enjoyable. I used to read to Bettie’s little brothers and sisters from time to time. I would pick up their copy of “My Friend Flicka” or a novel from “The Hardy Boys” and they’d sit, rapt by the story, even when books were hard to come by or the entertainment ran thin. The 1930s were hard, but for some kids in Brooklyn they were bearable with enough distraction._

Torra and Stella finished the Harry Potter series over one long night, a night that involved lots of hot cocoa and crying over Fred Weasley (“But the merry twin pranksters were one of my favorite parts!” Torra bawled through thick Asgardian tears) and finally collapsing together on the couch at 4AM when the sleep deprivation caught up to them. When Stella woke up, Torra was curled up at her side with her head on her lap and the copy of “The Deathly Hallows” hugged to her chest. It was a lazy kind of Sunday morning anyway, so Stella eased herself out from underneath the snoring thunder goddess and tiptoed into the kitchen so that she could wake up to french toast and bacon. Sometimes it felt like Torra was a whole lot younger than her hundreds of years would suggest.

_Then we finished the last book, Jane picked up Torra and I was left with the rest of the stack that Toni had handed me. I was about to put away the brick of a tome that the seventh book was before I noticed some folded up pieces of paper tucked away in the book’s jacket. I pulled it out and unfolded the thing to see a picture (presumably by the Asgardian’s hand) that she had doodled from the paper in my notebook that I had left on the table. It was a crude drawing but recognizable. On the left was Torra, smiling and dot-eyed, in a red and gold Gryffindor scarf and holding a wand. On the right was someone who it took me a second to recognize until I saw the long dark hair crowned with a pair of golden horns and finally realized that this was Loki, Torra’s sister, in a green and silver Slytherin scarf and with a wand and what looked like Fizzing Whizbees in the other hand that she and Torra were sharing as they both floated happily off the ground._

_I hadn’t realized just why she had been crying so much. It hit me and I felt like a class-A idiot for not figuring it out sooner: the Weasley twins reminded her of Loki._

_The picture that she drew is sitting in my notebook now, tucked in the pocket in the back. I’ve never talked to her about it since, but I wonder how much Torra thinks about her sister, and how much Loki knows about the way that her sister misses her. Is she really aware?_

_The workings of Asgardians are beyond me. I decided to put the whole thing aside and move on with my research._

_“Lord of the Rings” was something I had actually heard of soon after I woke up from my long sleep. It was only in passing, but I remember seeing a copy of the trilogy on Fury’s shelf when she brought me in for briefing. I remember it because they were in a place of honor and in mint condition at the top of a bookcase otherwise full of professional-looking files. I mentioned that I was reading these to Claire._

“These are some of my favorite books of all time, Cap,” Barton grinned, turning over the massive anthology in her hands, “Seriously, if anything is worth reading after when you got chilled, these are it.”

Stella eyed the book dubiously. After Harry Potter she wasn’t sure if anything could top that on her mental list of “modern books I love”, but she was willing to give this a shot if it was so highly regarded by Hawkeye and Director Fury.

_The first book was... a lot of walking. It was fascinating and vast and detailed but the pace was like the time I read Les Miserables-- it was fifty pages of tangent for one page of plot. Claire told me that the plot wasn’t the point, it was the world and I nodded along but that doesn’t mean I was entirely on board with the whole thing._

_It also finally explained where the nickname “Legolas” came from. Claire actually reminded me of him a little bit-- and Torra is Gimli and Nikita is... well the metaphor isn’t perfect but it would be a casting something along those lines._

_I could see why it was so beloved, though. If I had a little bit more patience I might have been able to enjoy the literary merits of Tom Bombadil or the Elvish songs or the incessant mumblings of Gollum even when they wore at my attention span, but even in those moments where I’m slogging through some of the longer descriptions I can at least appreciate the artful hand that Tolkien shapes the world with. Middle Earth feels like a real place! That’s enough of a draw that I managed to finish the whole series... And the Hobbit. And now Toni and Claire are going to make me watch the movies, too._

_Hopefully I haven’t gotten in over my head._

“So I hear you’re on a quest to read modern books?” Stella looked up from her computer to see Brooke Banner standing in the doorway. The good doctor leaned against the wall, holding up a well-loved paperback of something, “I thought I’d make my contribution. Picked this out for you.”

She handed the book over with a signature wry half-smile. Stella returned the favor with a sincere one of her own, “Thanks, I appreciate the help. Good timing, actually, I just finished my stack of books from Toni.”

“How did that go for you?” Brooke chuckled, eyeing the pile of books in question.

“Interesting,” Stella mused, “I ended up reading Harry Potter aloud to Torra and talking Elven archery logistics with Claire. I have to say, I’m kind of missing my Hemingway...”

“Eh, you’ll get used to it,” She shrugged, “Hey, um, just a heads up on the one I gave you. I think you’re going to like it, but... you might want to read it in private. You know, just in case.”

Stella knit her brows together, confused, “Why do you say that? Is this a..." Her voice grew conspiratorial, "naughty book or something?"

“What? Oh no, no, not at all, not like that,” Brooke assured her quickly, totally unaware of what she had accidentally implied, “No, it’s just that this book is at least partially set during the war, your war, and I figured that you might not want anyone else around in case things get, I dunno, a little close to home. It’s kind of intense.”

“Oh...” The soldier ran her hand over the soft paper cover lined with well-worn creases, “Thanks for the heads up, doc. And the book.”

“Don’t mention it,” She smiled, close-lipped, walking out the door as Stella considered the text in her hand. 

_The final book (of the ones that I’ve read so far, this is not to say that I’m going to stop reading any time soon) was given to me by Dr. Banner, a considerate woman to say the least of her good qualities. She picked out "Slaughterhouse 5" by Kurt Vonnegut, and I heeded her advice about finding a quiet place to read alone. I have to admit, I’m happy that I did because Brooke was right: it did hit close to home. ___

Stella had to put the book down every chapter or two. Dresden, Billy Pilgrim’s Dresden, happened just two months before she was frozen. To her it was still just a crackling voice over a radio, a whisper through the camp and then a shout; but the book was so right, it got so many little things right, she read it and she saw her comrades and those people laying on the ground whose eyes were open and blank and empty and she couldn’t even-- they had all just been children. It was naive to think that people expected the war to _end_ when it ended.

Maybe part of the reason that the novel rang so true to her was that it sacrificed structure for accuracy. Nothing was cut-and-dry from the moment she touched down in Europe. Even when she was a USO girl (little more than a performing monkey for raising morale and selling war bonds), there was a distinct clutter to the way time ran-- like all of the experiences and memories were balled up and crumpled in the back of her mind, and just now she was peeling them apart from each other, examining them in the new light of future’s morning.

_Even when I woke up, even when I found out I was seventy years in the future, even now... I’m not sure that the war will ever be over. It’ll color everything I see from the day it began to the day that I die. ‘But what kind of experiences won’t?’ part of me says. Just like any major life event is going to change you, isn’t it just one among many things that shaped me? Didn’t the serum, didn’t my childhood, didn’t the Avengers change me just as much?_

_Maybe they did; but still, reading this jumbled account of a man’s life in the war and in outer space, in his marriage and in the Slaughterhouse pulled up the red thread of wartime memory and wrapped it around my brain. I may have been a woman and a figurehead for a while but in the end I was a soldier, a_ real _soldier, and I see him and I see me and Bettie and the team I worked with and Peter--_

 _Agent Carter. Peter has become my clock. He‘s the one person who’s marked the time that I missed, marked the moment I went into the ice and the moment I came back out only to find that he had aged and died without me. He’s become the ticking second hand that reminds me, click after click, “this, this, this, this, this,_ this _” is what I could have had._

_If I hadn’t crashed, if I hadn’t been frozen, we would have gotten married. We would have gone for that dance and he would have taught me to waltz and I would have been able to put on my dress and lipstick and curl my hair like someone who didn’t just sacrifice everything to keep their home safe. I would have seen the Nazis defeated and the war won and the world back into a tentative peace. I would have seen the bad things, too-- like the Korean War and the Cold War and Vietnam, perhaps, but my life would have at least gone on uninterrupted. I could have been a mother, I could have had a family._

_Even in this future I could, though. I could find someone and we could try to pick up the pieces that my last life left behind.  
I can say these things, but I know myself too well to think that I could be sated by the life of a housewife. Would a white picket fence stop me from going after the _ next _bully on the world stage? Would the military let me stop being their symbol? Would the next war stop just because I chose to?_

_No. My happiness is somewhere else. So long as the fight continues, I will as well._

Emotional and mental exhaustion forced her to stop. Her head was pounding and it felt like her brain was being pumped full of the caustic pulp of buried thoughts left to fester. Something about this book made it impossible to ignore the painful things that she’d so successfully avoided since she’d awoken. Insistent heartbeats-- proof of life, proof that she was not still static in the polar ice-- demanded that she understand: you are a clutter of unresolved thoughts that need your attention. You are not a person who can stay frozen forever.

 _Bettie once said to me that great art teaches you things. Brooke was right in giving me this book because it_ is _great art, and even if it’s something that challenges my thoughts and feelings about my life it is something that needed to be brought to the surface. You can’t confront something if you don’t acknowledge that it exists. There are a lot of things in my life that I’ve shoved aside into the darkness of obscurity for far too long._

_I’m unstuck in time, too, Billy Pilgrim. I need to deal with that._

_So it goes._  
Sincerely,  
S.R. 


	3. Chapter 2: Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventy years took music and turned it on it's head-- now it's time for Stella to explore the plethora of new musical genres that she never knew existed.
> 
> "What is this?"
> 
> "Skrillex, Cap."
> 
> "IT SOUNDS LIKE BEES."
> 
> Also: Torra serenades, Toni pranks, Banner likes the Indigo Girls, Claire hops out of air vents and Nikita is a mysterious bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh sorry that this chapter took so long! IRL crazies all up in here. But I had A LOT of fun writing this chapter and making an epic playlist of exactly what Toni/Bruce/Nikita/Claire give Stella music-wise, so if anyone wants to know exactly what music gets exchanged in this chapter I can tell you song-by-song! 
> 
> Also-- if you're wondering, the "ode" that Torra sings is not a real song, but IS a real Norse legend!
> 
> Enjoy,  
> Benzaiten

# Chapter 2: Music

### “How strange it is to be anything at all.”-Neutral Milk Hotel, _In the Aeroplane Over the Sea_

After the emotional and mental exhaustion of her last endeavor into rediscovering what literature she’d missed in the interim of her sleep, Stella was a little bit hesitant to stop listening to her old Jazz records and delve into the vast musical landscape that had formed up during the time she was, as Toni put it, a “Capsicle”.

_It’s been about a week since I finished my last entry. A present I received today encouraged me to continue-- a CD-disk that I found sitting in an envelope in front of my door this morning as I came back from breakfast. I’m not sure if Peter put Toni up to this, but I have my suspicions. Peter winked at me when he saw I was reading “Lord of the Rings”, and I don’t think Toni knows I saw the look that she shot at him right afterwards._

After taking twenty minutes to remember how to work a CD player (she’d been shown how at one point, but the damn thing would never do what she wanted it to) she finally figured out what was wrong (it was unplugged) and pressed the play button. The first recording was a voice, not a song:

“Hey Miss America, I figured, since I’m the nicest person and enjoying watching you squirm a little bit at how crazy the world has gotten while you were sleeping (Oh we should totally watch that movie, it’s a classic Rom-Com)-- anyway, I figured that I’d make you a CD or two. Even though CDs are totally on the out right now (I could have just made you a USB but I think you might have gotten a headache trying to figure out what that little metal thing has to do with music and at least CDs look kind of like records) here is a PERFECT CD for your perusal. On one side of the disk is something that Pete suggested, a general overview of the musical merits of the last seventy years, spanning all genres and artists and whatnot. The other side is a personal present from none other than moi, and contains specific songs that I picked out just for you. A listing of all these tracks is written down on a piece of paper in the envelope.”

Stella fished through the envelope to find the sheet of paper scrawled with song titles and artists in Toni’s scratchy red handwriting.

“Tell me what you think, World War Barbie. Enjoy the 21st century.”

The CD went to the next track from there, but Stella stopped it before it started playing the first song. All things considered, this was really sweet. Toni and Peter helping her out like this was completely unnecessary for them, but still they took the time to put this all together just for her. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she skimmed the music list. Song titles and band names had sure gotten stranger over time. What the hell was a “Neutral Milk Hotel”?

_The help was much appreciated, though. Before I listened to the CD I had been wondering what the radio of the new century would sound like and started skipping through the stations. At least two of them were in fast-talking spanish (so I had no idea whatsoever of what they were saying) but the others were disappointing and noisy to say the least._

_Radio in my day was... quieter. People spoke slowly and clearly and even though we had commercials they didn’t pop up every five seconds. Radio used to sound like someone recorded a nice dinner conversation, not a raucous party where you can’t hear yourself think. I miss listening to radio dramas, too, because apparently they’re not a thing anymore and that’s a damn shame._

_The exception to my general dislike of modern radio is a station called “NPR”. It’s the closest thing I could find to what REAL radio sounds like. In particular, “This American Life” is my favorite-- Brooke likes this station too, and offered to help me understand things called “podcasts” where you can listen to the stories all the time, but personally I prefer doing listening like I always have-- tuning in as the program starts each week._

Stella picked up the headphones and “walk-man” device that she’d borrowed from the good doctor and plugged the one into the other. Apparently she would be able to walk around and this thing would play the music. The maiden voyage involved testing this device as she walked around the tower-- going to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, peering into the gym to see if anyone was using her punching bags, sitting on the couch in the living room and sketching idly as the music poured into her ears. It was strange and exciting and rather convenient to be able to carry songs with you.

“What are you doing?”

Cap jumped five feet into the air at the sudden voice over her shoulder. She pulled off her headphones and pressed the “pause” button and whipped around to see Nikita standing behind her; of course it was Nikita, he’s the only person who could sneak up on her like that. Well, maybe Barton could, in her sneakier moments, but that’s beside the point.

“Huh? Oh, hey, Nikita.” She winced at her own jumpy behavior, “You scared me for a second there.”

“I have that effect on people.” He stated flatly, as if telling her that the sky was blue, “What are you up to with the walkman? Is that Toni’s CD?”

Stella looked surprised, how did he know it was Toni’s CD? How did he even know that Toni had given her a CD? But then Nikita read the thoughts right off of her face and raised an eyebrow, and Cap remembered who she was talking to.

“Yeah, it’s for the whole ‘cultural reorientation’ project they have me on,” She rattled the device, “Toni is helping me out with modern music.”

“Hm,” His expressions were often so subtle that you could easily blink and miss them, “Has she made you listen to AC/DC yet?” Stella had a respectful fascination for the superspy, an admiration of his skill at his trade and a curiosity about what belied that still water that undoubtedly ran to navy-dark depths. She liked to think that they were friends.

“What’s an AC/DC? That noisy thing she played in Germany?” She remembered getting thrashed around by Loki, only to hear that strange music pierce the crowd and see a red and gold blur whizz into their fight like a missile from a war-plane. The memory was still fresh.

Nikita chuckled, “The very same.”

Stella let out a long breath through her nose, “Well... We’ll see how that goes. I’m listening to a CD that supposedly spans all seventy years I was sleeping. You can see for yourself,” She handed him the track list, “Who knows if it’s actually accurate...”

He studied the list, nodding along, “Hm, a Jeff Buckley song that isn’t ‘Hallelujah’, controversial choice,” His eyes flicked over the page, “Not a bad attempt. Not what I would necessarily pick, but good.”

“What do you listen to?” Stella was honestly curious-- the question “what Nikita would choose to listen to in his spare time” didn’t make for obvious answers.

He handed her the list, “I... Don’t have much time for music.” He started to walk out the door, but stopped and turned to her with his Mona Lisa smile, “But if I did, classical. And the occasional bit of ‘whatever Claire gives me’. Because you were wondering.”

Nikita left Stella on the couch, lost in consideration and thought.

_I like Bruce Springsteen. I like Buddy Holly and Johnny Cash, I like Sam Cooke and the blues, and it’s been hard to understand “Rock ‘n’ Roll” but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. Because it’s apparently a big dichotomy, for the record, I like the Rolling Stones over the Beatles, but both a fair amount._

_I don’t like the later “pop” stuff-- Madonna, Blondie, and hell if I understand what the heck “rap” is supposed to be. Beastie Boys? Wu-Tang Clan? All of it just soars over my head._

_However-- I don’t know who “Skrillex” thinks he is,_

“Toni, what am I listening to?”

“Skrillex, Cap. Dubstep.”

“Turn it off. Now.”

_\--but I’m pretty sure that all of his stuff is always going to sound like angry bees to me, whether I get used to all this “new sound” music or not._

Stella didn’t need to hear the booming laughter or the accompanying girlish giggle to know exactly who was walking down the hall. All she needed was to feel the rumbling in the floorboards to know that Torra was about to burst through the door and Jane was always close at hand.

“...And then, Loki told the Giantess I was a WOMAN! Her face was without price...”

Cap pulled her headphones around her neck and turned to see Torra gesturing wildly to accentuate her story. Jane’s mouth was tucked demurely behind her hand, and she was trying very hard not to laugh as hard as she was definitely laughing. Daryl Lewis walked behind them, looking like he was about to piss himself. Stella wasn’t sure who was laughing harder-- Torra (who couldn’t tell a joke without bursting into guffawing fits at her own punchlines) or Daryl (who was notorious for laughing at anything and everything).

“Hey there, Cap’n!” He said, trying desperately to get a hold on the ear-wide grin spread over his face.

“Lady Rogers! Good day!”

“Hey, Tor,” Stella couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics, “What have you all been up to?”

“Daryl and I took Torra to Ellis Island,” Jane held up a pamphlet, “And the statue of liberty. We figured it would be a good idea to help her get used to New York, since she’ll probably be staying here most of the time what with the Avengers Initiative and SHIELD, and Toni’s offered to make us some extra living space in the building.”

Cap quirked an eyebrow, “She already lives here, what does she need more space-- Wait...” Her eyes traveled between the two of them, ”’Us’?”

Jane blushed and grinned at Torra, who beamed proudly, “We are now going to share living quarters!”

Stella blinked. Maybe it was her old-fashioned sensibility, but wasn’t it generally a good idea to wait until they got married before moving in together? Something in the way they seemed so happy told her that yes, she was just being old-fashioned. Hell, Toni and Pete had been living together for years before they got engaged.

“ _Come gather ‘round people, wherever you roam...”_ Stella paused for a moment, wondering where the music came from, before she realized that the disc-man-thing had started playing it again when she sat on the “play” button, “ _And admit that the waters around you have grown, and accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you is worth saving, then you better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone, for the times they are ‘a changing...”_

“Congrats, you guys.” Stella beamed at the happy couple as Torra planted an affectionate peck on Jane’s cheek.

Cap had decided she would take Dylan’s advice.

_The way music has evolved from what it once was only makes the time I missed more painfully acute. I don’t understand half of what people are talking about in the lyrics if I can even catch them at all, what with the layers upon layers of instrumentation and with how all the new music tends to involve people distorting their voice in one way or another. After the music from the 1960s people must have forgotten how to sing. I bet that it got worse and worse until after a while people just started talking instead, and thus “Rap” was born. That’s my hypothesis._

_There’s a fair amount of music that I’m coming to like, though, especially from the newer stuff. I tried to talk to Toni and Claire about it, but after a little while all of their modern jargon went right over my head._

Coffee break. The three of them sat around the couch, Toni and Claire arguing over clues to the New York Times Sunday Crossword in the paper and Stella with her CD and sketchbook.

“I really like these ‘Dr. Dog’ guys,” Stella checked the track listing, “And I don’t know what a ‘Neutral Milk Hotel’ is supposed to be, but they’re really interesting and catchy, in a strange sort of way.”

Claire passed Toni one of Nikita’s signature eyebrow-raises. She just shrugged. Stella looked at them like they were speaking Cantonese.

“So, your favorite newer stuff is those two?” Toni asked, “What about Fleet Foxes? Or I know there’s some First Aid Kit on there...”

Stella checked the sheet again, which had become increasingly crumpled with wear and tear, “Oh, those songs I like, too.”

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight--” Claire picked up her head, penciling in a five letter word that was “the symbol of the dutch”, “You have a record player, you dress in vintage like you’re still living in the 40s, you hate pop music, drink insane amounts of coffee and are artistic what with the sketchbook and everything, and _those_ are your favorite bands?” Something amused and devilish flashed across her face, ”Toni, I think we’ve got an honest-to-goodness hipster on our hands.”

“And she’s from Brooklyn,” Toni grinned, eyes lighting up.

“Oh my god she is.”

Stark looked devious, “What an astute observation, Claire, what do you know? I think we have a hipster in our very own vintage barbie!”

“I’m a what now?” Stella knit her eyebrows together.

“A hipster! A Brooklynite with a fair-trade stick up her ass and a taste for PBR! Oh my god don’t tell me you like to go with Brooke down to the tea shop, too, I bet you do.”

“Yeah, I went once and it was actually lovely--”

Claire grinned wolfishly, “Hipster. 110% ‘you mainstream ass’-saying vegan-munching St. Marks-grade SoHo-going--”

“--alt-band listening--”

“--moustache-loving--”

“--FAKE GLASSES WEARING--”

“--hemp-knitting--”

“--Dyed in the locally-sourced wool--”

“HIPSTER!”

It wasn’t until a beat later that Barton and Stark noticed that Cap had left at some point during their bro-tastic hipster adjective exchange. They looked at each other, shrugged, and continued arguing over the crossword.

_I went back and listened to the other side of Toni’s gift CD. I guess I can’t find it in me to appreciate “hard rock” or whatever she calls the angry growling music she listens to. I mean, what is a “Love Gun” or do I really want to know? A “Bikini Kill”? Though the inclusion of the cultural reference for “Iron Maiden” is appreciated-- now I finally know where that name is from (other than medieval torture devices) and why the hell Toni of all people would ever call herself a “maiden”._

_Lucky for me, Toni’s CD wasn’t the only album I received from a team member-- Brooke was nice enough to make a little something, as was Claire. Though I didn’t get a chance to listen to either of those CDs before Torra approached me._

“Lady Rogers! I would like to assist you in your quest!”

It was out of the blue one Wednesday morning after eating a late breakfast that Torra announced her intentions, “I know not much of modern Midgardian music; however, it would be my pleasure to sing to you my favorite Asgardian song: ‘The Ode of Ivar Vidfamne’!”

Stella knew from the moment Torra said ‘sing to you’ that this was something that should be stopped, “That’s very nice of you Tor, but--”

“O SCAAAANIAAAA KIIIING HALFDAN....”

The goddess was already bellowing out her low notes so loud that Stella’s polite refusal was drowned out. She watched Nikita and Claire walk through the doorway (having heard the noise of what was presumably a birthing elephant), only to realize what was happening, pass each other a mortified look, and heel face turn out the door.

_Nikita, Barton, if you guys are reading this with all of your super-spy skills that I know you have, I just want to say: Thanks for nothing._

_I spent the next half hour trying to edge out of the living room without Torra noticing, but my efforts were ultimately moot when the ode finally finished and I still only had two fingers on the doorway and she turned to me with the glowing pride of a golden retriever who just brought you the loveliest decapitated sparrow and dropped it at your feet. I figured it was only polite to give her a thanks and a compliment on the..._ passion _with which she sang, which Torra took happily and offered to sing another song which meant that it was time for me to leave. Luckily, this time I escaped before I got stuck there for another hour._

_I retreated to my room, hoping that Banner’s music sensibilities would prove cleansing after the last experience. Again, she labeled the songs and what year they came out-- none of them more recent than 2003, I noticed, probably the year she went into deeper hiding? The CD began to play and I sat down on my bed and began to draw as it went._

_At first, a band called “The Barenaked Ladies” made me a little uncomfortable (standards of decency had certainly gotten more lax since ‘45), so I skipped over that track in favor of someone called ‘Patti Smith’. It was a lot of spoken word, a lot less singing. The music in the background wasn’t bad, I just kind of wish that they would sing more and talk over music less-- I get that enough when I’m trying to play my Ella Fitzgerald records and Toni insists on taking a phone call in the hallway right next to my room. Why does she talk so loud, anyway?_

Stella frowned at her entry, she was letting herself get off topic. “ _Clackclackclackclack_ ” went the ‘delete’ key.

_So Patti Smith, then the ‘Indigo Girls’... It was okay, I guess._

_It’s uncomfortable, not knowing if my opinions are formed because of my personal preferences or because I’m just not used to things as they are now. I guess the way I’d put it is that I’m completely biased because, compared to the modern average joe, I’m outdated. The things I like and the comforts I know are either obsolete or outdated, replaced by something new and better. Hell, a waitress told me that they had “wireless” at a cafe the other day and I thought she meant “wireless radio”. She had to explain to me that it was “wireless” internet. I feel like I’m on a new planet or something._

_Listening to the Indigo Girls gave me that kind of feeling, and I’m not sure why because almost everything I’ve listened to for this damn project has made me feel like that, but maybe I was just exhausted and up at 1AM with a bunch of mug-shaped coffee rings on my table and a book full of sketches that never seemed to turn out right. My eyes felt dry and my head was fuzzy with sleepless sleepiness and I woke up the next morning, still in my clothes, a cold mug of coffee on my left, my notebook sitting on my stomach, and the kind of crick in my neck I hadn’t felt since falling asleep against a semi-petrified log in a camp in the Black Forest in 1944._

_I finished Banner’s CD. Joan Jett was a little beyond me, again (too loud and noisy, like Toni’s music) but the “Barenaked Ladies” turned out to be pretty pleasant, in contrast with their lewd name. I didn’t quite like it at first; but then I found myself humming one of their songs as I was making breakfast. I guess you never know what’ll stick with you._

Barton’s CD was the last one Stella had left, so she sat down again in her favorite spot on the couch and covered her ears with her favorite headphones. Pressed play and-- OH HOLY SWEET JESUS MOTHER OF _GOD_ WHAT THE HELL--

The volume was turned all the way up and the music sounded like someone was screaming and ripping apart an electric guitar with steel-toed boots.

“What _was_ that, Claire?” Stella confronted her later, catching the hawk just as she dropped from one of the vents in the hallway.

She looked confused until Stella thrust the CD in her face. Claire chuckled, “It’s called Punk, Cap. Try it.”

“It almost blew my ears out!”

“Come on, combat barbie, seriously? You beat up aliens with your pinkie finger and you can’t handle a little Sex Pistols?”

“An appropriately inappropriate band name,” Stella muttered, folding her arms.

“Give it a chance, why don’t you. Not everything is ‘Anarchy in the UK’, alright?”

Cap studied Claire’s face, a thoughtful pout forming on her own, “Ugh, fine. But it better not be as bad as that last garbage, I’m warning you, Barton.”

Hawkeye just laughed and continued on her way down the hall, “Yeah, yeah, suck it up, Cap.”

_Apparently the fact that someone had turned the volume all the way up to “11” (Why is there an ‘11’ on the dial, anyway?) didn’t help my opinion of that first track, so I turned the dial back down and continued through the songs. Lucky for me, the rest of it wasn’t quite as belligerent to the senses. Not quite, but close._

_‘The Go! Team’ (also, why the punctuation in the middle of band names?) was at least kind of fun to listen to, being so catchy and with a good beat. A lot of Claire’s music was a little too intense for me-- Fugazi, X-Ray Spex, Nirvana... None of those are bands I plan on following up with. At least I gave it a listen though, right? Don’t I get points for that?_

_Nikita approached me an hour or two after I finished. Well, ‘approached’ might not be the right word-- he just kind of appeared and I pretended like I wasn’t scared out of my wits as usual that he’d managed to sneak up behind me without me noticing._

“How’s it been?”

‘ _Oh my god why does he always do that seriously he needs to stop doing that_ ’ “Oh, uh, fine, I guess,” Stella tucked her surprise behind sheepishness, “Can’t say I’m musical soulmates with anyone else on the team. I guess I’m a little stuck in the past when it comes to music, can’t get used to all this new stuff.”

The corners of the spy’s mouth twitched upwards, “It’s a brave new world for you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She chuckled, “I mean, back in my day there wasn’t that much to choose from, musically-speaking. Jazz or Classical, mostly. Sure, there were shades in both of those... but nothing compared to the kind of things I’ve heard nowadays.”

Stella wasn’t looking at his face but she could feel his gaze run over her actions and expressions with surgical, scalpel precision. It wasn’t malicious, but it sure felt like he was looking right through her. Nikita had eyes like an autopsy.

“Here.”

It took her a second to register what he was doing, “Hn? Oh, uh...”

It was a CD. From the looks of it, Nikita burned it himself.

“Take it,” He allowed himself a smile, “For you. Picked it out myself.”

Cap stared at the disc, turning it over in her hands. The gesture was unexpected... But it was sweet of him.

“Thank you, Agent Romanov.”

When she looked back up, he was already gone.

_I went back to my room and took out Nikita’s CD. I guess I wasn’t sure what to expect-- he had mentioned a vague description of his tastes before but I had no idea what I was getting myself into-- until I read the note he had tucked in the jewel case._

_‘Stella,_

_Being in the present doesn’t mean you have to give up your past._

_Enjoy,  
\--Romanov’_

_The CD was a collection of Jazz music from 1945 through 2012. I’ll admit: listening to that playlist, I don’t think music has ever made me smile so big._

_Nikita is right. Just because there is this new, vast world of musical possibility out there doesn’t mean that I still shouldn’t stick to what I know and love. I’ve missed seventy years of musical innovation, everything from the electric guitar to ‘electronic’ Music, and it’s a crazy onslaught of new information coming at me all the time. I didn’t even know that you could get music onto discs this small until Toni showed me how to do it! The world has gotten crazier and crazier without me._

_So, in the middle of all this insanity, I’m trying out new things. I’ll listen to what my friends have to show me, but in the end that doesn’t mean that I have to embrace all of this new stuff to the point where it becomes my own. I still love a good stand-up bass and trumpet and piano. I still prefer Sarah Vaughan to ‘Teagan and Sara’. That’s just who I am: a woman of the Jazz age._

_Of course, I’m still going to research more into this whole “hipster music” thing Toni and Claire were teasing me about. That was some damn good stuff._

_Sincerely,  
S.R._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll say it now: I kind of love writing these guys. They're AWESOME. 
> 
> ALSO special thanks as always to my lovely betas Suzelle and MizBingley, and additional thanks to them for all of the music recs.


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